Oneshot Renaissance
by CatalystOfTheSoul
Summary: Oneshots. Currently Featuring: Whispering Mist. Danny's ghost sense has evolved into a terrifying fog that casts his ghost fights in obscurity. (Rarepair week submission: savant par)
1. Summer living (conditions)

**Synopsis: Vlad and Danny interaction in the worst of summer heat.**

 **Chapter one of an all new series of oneshots, since I started my previous series over five years ago. Renaissance revival writing needs a new place.**

* * *

Summer days were the best days.

Especially now. Before the accident I remember summer as a humid, sweaty and groggy experience that muddled up all of my senses. I used to complain and moan the whole time that winter needed to come back. The only good thing about summer was a lack of school responsibilities.

"You guys need to relax." I tipped my head back, enjoying the sunlight. My friends were beside me, sweating profusely and mourning empty water bottles. The bus was late and our stop had no kind of covering to protect us from the heat. Sam may as well be dying with the way she was acting.

I got glares from the both of them that I felt rather than saw. "Says the ice boy."

"The ice boy still gets sunburns and you don't see me complaining about it." I cracked one eye open to see her visibly cringe and throw a hand over her face. Sam turned into a cherry tomato in this weather. She never, ever tanned. Today she had no gothic umbrella with little skulls sprouting from each end to protect her. Apparently, this was misery. I couldn't bring myself to care.

It was _such_ a nice day.

The sound of a wheezing, gurgling engine made us turn our heads and Tucker sighed in relief, the two of them jumping to their feet. "It's probably not air-conditioned." I muttered under my breath. Luckily, neither of them had the strength to push me for having no hope.

It was air conditioned. The cool air was cranked up so high that stepping onto the bus felt like entering a walk-in freezer. I went from relaxed to on edge in an instant, my fingers shivering just out of _habit_ while I pulled out a bus pass. I wasn't even that cold yet. My friends mercifully didn't mock me for sitting as far away from the blowing cold air as possible, the hairs on my arms standing on end.

Sam sat down near it next to Tucker and turned around to smirk at me. The bus started moving with a jolt. "How's the ice boy holding up _now_?"

"He currently cannot wait to get back outside." I replied honestly.

The bus bumped and traveled at a snail's pace. Tucker was playing with his phone and Sam, finally relaxed enough to do so, pulled out her own. "I'm getting a ride home." She announced. "I'm not walking three more blocks in this heat. Any takers?"

"Me!"

Tucker and Sam both waited for my response expectantly. I shook my head, imagining getting into yet another car pumping ice-filled air at my face. "I'd rather walk."

Sam shrugged. "Okay. Your loss."

We got off and parted at the central station, my best friends vanishing into a slim black Honda while I started down the hill towards home. From this vantage point, FentonWorks was just visible over the tops of warehouses and industrial lots.

I moved slowly, enjoying the feeling of the day. In a life like mine, it was crucial to enjoy the littlest moments of peace. I'd go crazy if I didn't.

Speaking of going crazy.

There was a sleek car sitting in front of my house. I moaned, ran a hand through my hair, and checked my clothes for holes. Vlad always commented on how utterly poor I looked all the time. But this tank was fairly new, it was kind of in style to have holes in the knees of my jeans, and I was wearing a pair of shoes that weren't taped together. My fingers went to the worn, fraying strap of my backpack. I scowled.

I could ditch it as soon as I got inside, I guess.

I pushed through the front door. We had a fan going beside the staircase that blew lazily into the empty living room. I quickly stuffed my backpack in the space between the couch and its side-table before following the hum of voices and the smell of baked ham into the kitchen. There were two fans in here, humming loudly and on their last legs. I stopped short and made a choking sound in my throat, covering my mouth.

Vlad was leaning in front of one of the fans, arms propped on the counter like he couldn't hold himself upright. His eyes were half closed and for once in his goddamn life he was wearing a sleeveless top and _khaki shorts_. I never thought I'd be more mortified and entertained by hairy legs in my entire life.

My enemy heard me and turned his head to shoot me a lazy glare. There was sweat beading on his forehead and he seemed about to collapse. I had forgotten - Vlad's ghost core is hot.

This weather must be _killing_.

I couldn't help the grin that split my whole face in two. "Hey Fruitloop." I greeted, gushing. I was not only lucky, but honored to have the privilege of seeing him like this. "Nice shoes. Couldn't afford sandals?"

They were awful leather-skin-something not-breathing expensive dress shoes that hardly fit in with the rest of what he was wearing. Little white socks brightened up his ankles; it was very fashionable for men of his age, I'm sure. "Sweetie." My mother scolded, walking over to give Vlad a cup of iced tea that he grasped and seemed very close to pressing against his face to escape the terrible heat. God, if mom tested him he'd be running a very human fever right now. It was _great_. "Would you go outside and get the other pitcher of sun tea? At the rate we're going, it won't be cooled in time to replace the current one."

I waltzed by Vlad, making sure to shoot him a bouncy grin. "Sure mom. But I won't really need much. It's not _that_ hot."

If looks could kill I'd be a hole in the floor.

Well, I mean technically for Vlad looks _could_ kill. But not around my mom. I grabbed the big glass pitcher, brown with summer tea, off the back porch and brought it back in through the kitchen. Mom was gone and Vlad was lounging against the middle counter, directly in front of our biggest and wheeziest fan. His skin was shiny with perspiration. I set the giant jar down and looked him over. "So what're you doing here? Unless you think smelling like a gym locker room is somehow going to attract my mother. It's admittedly not your absolute _worst_ plan."

"Hilarious. Your humor is never-ending, Daniel." He blinked at me, face completely drained of energy. "But I'm not here to make small talk with your parents."

"Of course you're not." I couldn't help losing a bit of my cheer. I folded my arms and tried to show that I'd grown a couple inches since we first met. "What do you want."

He considered me for a moment, eyes sweeping over my condition; a complete lack of sweat _despite_ having just walked half a mile in this weather. He sighed in what must have been envy. "I bet winter is horrible for you."

I blinked, but didn't comment on it. It was basic instinct not to tell Vlad he was right. I would shiver violently in response to soft breezes, my teeth chattered before the temperature plummeted properly below freezing, and the ice inside of my core stretched out into my human form to turn me into a human popsicle. The horrible truth was I could sympathize with what Vlad was going through.

Vlad, who wore coats and scarves for decoration.

"I'm here to ask a favor of you." He was looking at me strangely. Calculating. It made my hair stand on end and I shifted uncomfortably.

I gave him my best annoyed scowl. It was nothing compared to what he had at full strength, but it was definitely improved. "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm probably the last person in the world willing to help you."

"What if it were mutually beneficial?"

"No."

"Daniel…"

Whatever we were about to discuss got cut off when my mother arrived back in the kitchen, carrying something from the lab. It beeped twice when it came near us and Vlad and I both stiffened. My mom only frowned, oblivious. "I thought I got all the bugs out." She muttered and set the device down, looking at the two of us. I could tell her head was still in the lab, trying to figure out faulty technology that only went faulty around us.

Vlad cleared his throat, as desperate to change her train of thought as I was. "Maddie. I heard that you got a pretty big grant recently to fortify the city. What's that all about?"

She immediately brightened. "Oh. Yes! Jack and I are very excited. He's out at Casper High right now setting it up. It's _invisible paint_."

We stared at her. She didn't lose her grin for a moment, going to the counter to pick up the glass tea jar I'd brought in. I saw my mother scowl. "This is heavy. Open the fridge, Danny?" I did. She went on while I made room for the new pitcher beside the nearly-empty one. "Invisible paint is what we're calling it because it dries clear, only leaves a bit of shining residue. It's completely ecto-proof.

"Ghosts won't be able to phase through any surfaces that have the paint on it, and it acts a little bit like a ghost shield. Whenever a ghost makes an impact on the paint it won't damage or dent or the surface underneath, no matter how much force they apply. It's a kind of multi-dimensional substance that completely resists and absorbs the impacts that ghosts have. So, no more destroyed walls or infrastructure as the casualties of ghost fights. The city is going to save a _fortune_ on repairs. And it makes ghost hunting much easier!"

Vlad and I exchanged glances. "How so?" I ventured to ask.

"Even a student can shut a ghost in a room, Danny." My mom replied easily, smiling as she rearranged some things in the fridge. "If we coat every surface with the stuff, the ghosts will be foiled by something as simple as a locked door! It'll really change the tide of this little war of theirs, I think."

I had gone a little pale. Vlad watched with interest, once again calculating. I was going to ask more questions, but the Fenton Family Ringtone went off and mom rushed out of the room to go find where dad had last set down the landline. I was given a considering look. "You've learned to teleport, right?"

"I'm not that great at it." I admitted, folding my arms against myself and staring at the door my own mother had vanished through. Logically, mom's invention was great. Realistically, I felt betrayed. "This isn't good."

He shrugged, frowning. "I tried to not fund any of their pet projects." He muttered. "But I got out-voted."

"You?" I snorted. "Out-voted?"

"It's hard to believe, I know." He muttered. "Life was easier when I could just overshadow everyone who disagreed with me. But your parents gave city employees these hideous specter-deflector bracelets. It was awful."

"Oh, I feel so bad for you." I muttered sarcastically.

He lifted an eyebrow. "You know everything they do impacts _your_ welfare more than mine, right?"

"Shut up."

He smirked and leaned forward on the counter. He still looked horrible, but now he seemed to be playing with the idea that I was about to enter a new kind of hell at school. It considerably brightened his demeanor. "I could teach you how to teleport without wasting as much energy as you do." He offered, taking a sip of iced tea. "Since you're about to need it."

"I know what the price is for that. No thanks."

"The price changed. I think we can work out an exchange."

I didn't trust him. Vlad has a silver tongue tipped with poison; but I inclined my head and listened to what he had to say. "I will train you in this one skill in exchange for a sample of your core."

I stared at him, instantly defensive. "You want my _what_?"

"I will also give you a sample of mine; integrate it into your signature to give you a little bit of balance." Vlad continued. "A valuable trade. After all, just as winter makes you hypothermic, this exhausting _heat_ is making me _sick_. I refuse to stand it any longer if there's a solution living down the street from me."

"You want a sample of my cryokinetic core?" I lifted my eyebrows. "I'm sorry, does it look like I've completely lost my memory? I know what happens when you want to play scientist with me, Vlad. And the answer is hell no. _Fuck_ no."

Vlad threw up his hands. "I'm not strapping you to a table and forcing you to cooperate. I'd say it's not that awful of a favor to fulfill, Daniel."

"You're only not doing that because the last time you did it I set all your shit on fire!" I snapped. "I'm not your lab rat! No! I'm not helping you!"

I could see he was boiling, in more ways than one. For a split second his eyes turned red and a couple of the alarms downstairs echoed in response to it. "Will you at least think about it?"

"What part of 'fuck off' do you not understand?"

"I'm trying to be civil."

"You're terrible at it." I muttered, watching his eyes fade back to blue and the alarms turned off. "I'm sorry. The heat sucks. Your life sucks. I can't fix it." I held up my hands in surrender. "This is shit you got yourself into."

"Being _half-ghost_?"

"No." I shook my head innocently. "Being an asshole. I am half-living proof that being half-ghost is not a prerequisite."

He looked ready to hit me. It was the perfect time for my mom to barge in with an ecto-gun pointed in the general direction of the kitchen, waving it around in a Fenton-Style delayed reaction to the ghost alarm downstairs. She blinked at us and lowered her weapon. "Scanners said there was a ghost in here?"

Vlad shrugged. I simply poured myself some tea. "Must be a heat malfunction, mom. Everything goes a bit crazy in this weather."

I made sure to give Vlad a little _hint hint_ kind of a glare.

He responded in kind. "But a little bit of ice could easily fix that kind of crazy, Daniel." He swirled the melting ice in his glass for emphasis. "I'd hate to see what else is going to malfunction without it. You should invest in central cooling to _protect_ all of this equipment."

My mom was nodding and I was trying not to pull out my hair in frustration. "Fine." I muttered. I knew not to take threats from him lightly. "I'll _think_ about it."

That was all Vlad needed to get out of my hair, apparently. He hardly stayed another ten minutes, chatting with my mother until his phone beeped; he claimed he had mayoral duties to attend to and left.

I sank into a kitchen chair and let the fan give me little goosebumps. "Why does summer have to be so complicated?"

Mom had left to go check on overheating equipment.

I was alone with my thoughts. I sighed. It was too hot for this.

* * *

 **I decided Vlad's car is a Rolls Royce Ghost; because when I looked up fancy ass cars it was described as** **"** **a car for the man who couldn't afford a phantom." Very fitting.**

 **-Catalyst**


	2. Dearest Diary, Plan my Death

"Can u make a sequel part to Dearest Diary? Please?"  
-Anon in a Review for _Oneshots_

I'm not linking back to the oneshot that started this. It's terribly embarrassing writing, I wrote it eight years ago, and it's one of my first of anything. But the request to continue it - why not, right?

 **READ THIS:  
** Synopsis of Dearest Diary: Apparently PP is canon. This fic is based on a diary entry where Vlad reveals he pit enemies against Danny "for his own good" and built him up for Amity, and made him allies from the shadows? I'm assuming my vague-ass descriptions implied Vlad knew he was obsessed with Danny and knew he was going to be consumed with it, so he decided it was safest to be Danny's enemy for when that when completely out of control. I implied Vlad orchestrated Danny's growth to give him allies and make Vlad a defeatable enemy. We are left with no information about Vlad besides his journal entry.

And at the end of that entry, which in one paragraph is alarmingly more interesting than the entire oneshot I wrote, I'm writing Danny finding and reading the journal. It shocked him a lot (gasp). I guess I'll continue from there.

* * *

The black book dropped from Danny's numb fingers and landed in the ashes with a _thud_. His hands shook, he had to press them to his chest to think clearly. His nose burned with the heavy remnants of smoke. "Danny?" Her voice was like a dull headache that spiked with each syllable. "Phantom!"

He did not move.

A shadow fell over him through the hole in the roof, the heat from the destroyed building turning into just warmth. Valerie, too smart to enter a building with black and crumbling pillars, hovered above him. "Phantom?"

Danny looked up. He recovered the journal from the floor and dusted it off, then held it aloft. "Ghost zone item," he explained, voice shaking, "perfect condition, see? Not even scorched."

"If that's another book of curses-"

Danny leapt into the air and hovered beside her. He tucked the journal into his jumpsuit. "It's not curses, Val. Come on. Am I that dumb to do that kind of a thing twice?"

Her flat expression told him exactly what Valerie thought. He rubbed his neck and didn't press it further. "Look, I checked the building. Nobody perished in the fire. _Told you_ it was empty..." Val was already scanning her phone for the next incident, scrolling through what was doubtless a laundry list of complaints. "Mayor Sanchez's swans are loose." Valerie muttered, scrolling by the incident report. "You want to go visit an old fan? I think she's still president of your fanclub, actually."

Danny paled. " _Ph_ anclub." He corrected in a weak voice.

Val burst into laughter, shaking her head. "Seems like nothing else is going on." She scanned his chest where the indent of the journal was hidden. "So it's swans for us. Unless you're going to talk to me about what you found. Which, you know, since I kind of pay your salary and all…"

"It's just a notebook. Spectral. Whooo-oo." Danny waved his arms with the sound effects. "And I _am_ on the clock, boss. So...swans."

She rolled her eyes. But they were partners, and lived on a strange kind of balance of trust. Valerie didn't push the buttons that didn't need to be pressed. It could lead to dangerous topics, like their personal lives. Phantom and the Red Huntress did _not_ discuss their personal lives with each other. (Incidentally, Danny Fenton and Valerie Gray chatted all the time.)

Paulina Sanchez was the first mayor of Amity. The city council voted to change the city's name, and image, when she came into office. Paulina was not only instrumental in funding the ghost hunters of the city, setting up grants for call centers and local organizations that were dedicated to elite funeral services to put the dead to rest, she was also the very first mayor to open up the city's parks since they'd closed nearly twenty years. She was determined to turn her home into a nice place to live.

And she still, very unfortunately, never stopped flirting. Over time, that flirtation expanded to include both of the ghost hunters that landed on her lawn. Paulina marched over to them, her dress a mix of pink and white with a heart neckline and lace trim. She grinned at them. "You picked up the case! Oh thank goodness, I could not have put up with the Ghostkateers for another day. Dash is completely _suffocating_ in a uniform."

"I thought you told him to join the city council."

Paulina waved her off. "He couldn't handle closed rooms. The trauma, you know?"

They both nodded. 'Trauma' was a vague term in Amity that very simply meant that ghosts had messed everything up and there were too many triggers to talk about it. Shockingly, the amount of PTSD diagnosed citizens with their exceptionally wide range of triggers, dramatically expanded the city's disability services. Amity was almost one of the best cities in the world to have a 'problems'. "Anyway." She smiled at both of them, and it reach her eyes, but she quickly became serious. "The swans have gone and - Danny I'm so sorry - the chief of police is here - "

"Oh god."

" - and he's up in arms about the call centers again. I can't have undead swans drifting through the hallways while we're at tea. You _know_ how he is." Paulina pleaded.

Danny ran a hand through his hair. "I'll deal with the swans. You just….deal with the chief. And if he's still complaining about the centers ask him how much city damages have gone down since we started them."

Paulina responded with her politician's smile.

Valerie charged her ecto-destabilizer and nodded at Paulina. "Hey Phantom." Her hoverboard activated and she leapt into the air. "Bet I can get more swans than you."

"Bet you can't!"

They rounded up nine of ten swans, most of them easy to track with tracking rings around their feet, or their neck if a particular ghost swan lacked legs. Valerie victoriously walked beside Danny, despite not being able to phase through walls she bagged six swans to Danny's three. It wouldn't matter if he caught the last one. Danny and Valerie moved on foot through the gardens, Danny trying to sense a specific ectosignature while surrounded by a menagerie of ghost animals and Valerie inspecting the broken tracking chip of swan number ten, found at the entry to the garden.

"You'd think they'd learn that Hubert doesn't ever keep his tracking devices on." Valerie mumbled. "I swear he's the master swan who orchestrates all of their escapes."

"He's dumb and runs into walls." Danny replied offhand. "Sally is setting him up. We always find her in the fountain, pretending nothing's wrong, while dead swans wreak havoc all around her."

"No, Sally's a doll." Val chided. "Hubert is it. I'm sure of it. He's always digging into food, or harassing the living swans at Dale's Duck Pond, or…" She stopped in front of the remains of ripped up rose bush, petals and leaves scattered everywhere. "Or getting in fights with gardens."

Danny crouched in front of the rose bush. He sensed traces of an ectosignature, but it was scattered in with all of the other ghosts that lived around the mayor's mansion. Many animals, as well as their undead caretakers, and the occasional ghostly staff made it impossible to decipher what signature belonged to who. Danny sighed. "No dice."

Valerie's equipment was equally useless with all the clutter. "You're sure you're not just hoping he'll burst into the chief's tea and crumpets?"

Danny laughed. "There's always hope!"

She smirked and lifted the refined thin canister meant for small caliber ghosts, an educated version of the Fenton Thermos that Danny still carried on his back as a hallmark of his job. Though generally the Fenton Thermos actually was retired to carrying around actual lunch. "You know…" She switched the lever from _catch_ to _release_. "We could make sure that happens without Hubert."

Danny's eyes glowed. Literally. "Val, if you weren't already married, I'd propose right now."

"I'd say no."

"Even in front of the swans?"

"Especially in front of the swans."

* * *

They were officially banned from the mayor's mansion.

Paulina gave a thorough dressing down in front of three city policemen and the chief himself. Danny got the majority of it, as Valerie - rightful winner of the caught-more-swans-contest - ran off to go recapture all of them. Paulina added, after banishing them, that of course their banishment was lifted for next week's meeting with the city planners, and if the Fentons would _please_ come without their weapons drawn that would be lovely, and how _was_ Jazz after all…

Danny navigated the very personal and probing conversation for another ten minutes. When he finally escaped, he faced the chief of police himself. He was at least two inches shorter than him and completely unimpressed with Mayor Sanchez's favoritism. "Phantom." He growled.

Danny rubbed his neck. "...Wes."

"That was funny. Very funny. Funniest thing I've ever seen." Wes Weston glared.

"Yeah. It _was_ pretty great." He flushed green.

"Look, Fenton, I know you're defensive about the call centers-"

"Woah. Breach of protocol, chief." Danny raised up his hands. "It's Phantom. Be professional."

"Professional! You just released dead swans in a sun parlor!"

"Well it was professionally _done_..."

"That's not the point!" Wes snapped, fury boiling in his eyes. His frustration was very unfortunately, completely adorable. His cheeks got all red and his freckles stood out, and his slightly curled red hair stuck out from under his hat at odd angles, like he'd fallen asleep on it and never combed. "You don't get to attack people with _guns_ just to get a laugh, just because you're in denial that the call centers interrupt police frequencies-"

"The ghosts get confused. We're very close to fixing the zone's end of the calls."

"-and clog up emergency lines! It's a huge risk!"

Danny nodded, fully aware of how many sleepless nights he'd spent on the problem as it was. "Sir," he forced the word. "With all due respect, it's interrupted your lines, like, three times. And you get a little more radio static. What's the big deal? The call centers are _helping_ ghosts, who-"

"This city is more than just ghosts, Phantom." Wes shot. "There are people in danger over this. Living people! They take priority. They are _my_ job. Stop interfering with _my_ job."

"I had my job first. It's arguably more important. I did, kind of, you know, save the world."

Wes rolled his eyes. "Sure you did. No one else was involved. Absolutely did it by yourself, congratulations."

Danny paused. He was usually in the mood to argue with Wes, and could do it until Wes was blue in the face and out of oxygen and too tired to stand up. But when he thought about the world, and saving the world, he thought about the book tucked inside of his hazmat suit. The cleanly made, hand-stitched pocket made out of thick, armor-like fabric that could only be manufactured in the ghost zone itched in a way that wouldn't be satisfied. Danny touched his chest, feeling the rimmed edge of the book inside of that pocket.

"...Fenton?"

He jumped. Wes looked him over, then rolled his eyes. "Nevermind. I'm not having this conversation." The chief of police stormed off, gathering his officers from the foyer and leaving without so much as pausing to wave goodbye to the mayor.

Paulina wasn't paying attention anyway. She sat on the staircase in the front of the house, a place that was both a fortress and a refuge for all kinds of people and creatures, from ghosts to humans, anyone displaced without a home. Her hair was up and she leaned on Valerie's shoulder, talking no doubt about her latest bout with the city council. Valerie, her helmet removed, nodded as she talked. They made eye contact from across the room and Val waved him off. He nodded and, figuring Valerie already caught all the swans or would catch all the swans, left.

* * *

The sun dipped below the horizon as Danny got to Fentonworks. His parents left the living room light on for him while they worked in the lab. He could hear them chatting downstairs. He entered the kitchen, human, and stopped to wash his hands before opening the ecto-proof fridge to start fixing dinner. A drawer in the fridge didn't fit the rest; it was a huge block of chrome locked with a combination keypad inside a heavy metal safe. The drawer was labeled _Danny_. He ignored it to make his parents dinner first. A vegetable stir-fry, with lean chicken mixed in. He cooked with a light layer of olive oil, stashed all four salt shakers on the highest shelves, and seasoned with ancho peppers and garlic.

The smell brought Maddie and Jack upstairs by the time Danny arranged their meals onto plates. Maddie entered the kitchen first, removed her gloves and hooked them in her belt. At Danny's look, she stopped to wash her hands. Jack joined her. When dry, she walked over and kissed Danny on the cheek, "You're too sweet for us. Only two plates?"

Danny shrugged. "I, uh…" He glanced at the fridge.

"Already?"

"It's been two weeks." Danny shuffled his feet. "And I've been pretty active, so."

"You're not going to eat with us?" Jack sat down and prodded his broccoli with a fork, generally suspicious of it.

"I'll sit with you."

Danny sat across from his parents and tapped the table, glancing out the window. He wondered what he should say to them. Was there anything left to say? "Danno." Jack pointed his fork (speared with broccoli) at him, "Wasn't it _you_ who banned ghost contaminants from the dinner table?"

Danny blinked. The journal, glowing very faintly, sat on the corner of the table where he'd left it to free up his hands for cooking. Danny snatched it up and immediately put it in his lap. "Sorry, it's...I have a question."

They waited. Maddie cut up her vegetables into smaller vegetables. "It's about Vlad."

Jack paused mid-bite; Maddie stopped cutting. They exchanged glances, in the space of a moment growing tense. "What about him?" Maddie asked, her voice carefully level and eyes like flint. This was not a topic generally allowed at the dinner table.

Danny dropped his eyes and just shrugged. He wished he had food to push around a plate while he thought of what to say. "Do you think he ever tried? Like, if he knew he was going to go bat-crazy insane, do you think he tried to set precautions in place so that we could... _handle_ it?"

Jack made a thoughtful expression and Maddie scoffed, rolling her eyes. "He's not the type."

"Why not?"

"The man was a lot of things, but suicidal is not one of them." Maddie replied tersely, stabbing her cauliflower.

"He's not dead, mom."

She pressed her lips together. The canister downstairs that contained the fragmented, destabilized mess which made up the remains of Vlad Plasmius was about as dead as any ghost could possibly get. "Danny." She said evenly. "I know that the call centers have given you a lot of hope for the ghosts that are more...volatile. I know that it's made you see a lot of them from a different light." Danny very much considered it the other way around, but he let her go on. "I know it makes you think you can help all of them."

"Mom,"

"No, no," She held up her hand. "You relinquished his remains to us. That means we decide what happens with them. You're not going to suggest-"

"I'm not suggesting we stabilize him!"

"-you are! This is the same thing as it was with subject 246-1, Danny, and I won't-"

"Walker." Danny corrected.

"-have you rehabilitating something completely hopeless! It's not rehabilitation, it's you putting your home and your family and your city in danger." Maddie inhaled, gaining control of herself. "Ghost obsession _cannot_ be erased, Danny."

Danny soured. He got to his feet and pushed in his chair. "Yeah, I know, _mom_." He shuffled over to the fridge and punched in a combination to the drawer with his name neatly engraved across it. The containment unit produced a touchpad that Danny pressed his thumb down on. It beeped. "I just wanted to talk about the possibility that he tried to make it easier for us, that's all."

" _Why_?"

"Because it wouldn't make him very different from me!" Danny yanked a glowing tupperware from the drawer and shut it, listening to the lock slide into place before turning around. "I'm not going to go crazy in a day, am I? But I am going to get there." He waved the tupperware container. "I used to only have to eat this every six months." His parents stilled in the way they did when listening to what they didn't want to hear. "I'm deteriorating," Danny said, unafraid of it, "and we know my transition to full-dead is _probably_ going to go badly. All we're doing is stalling it, instead of putting... _precautions_ down. We need to do more."

He put the journal in front of them, breaking his own rule about artifacts at dinner, and flipped it open. Vlad's journal of his descent into madness lay before them. "We have data to start with. He at least left us enough to inspire a plan."

* * *

No pressure to review. I didn't put much effort down, and wrote this to get my juices flowing for some other work.

-Carrie


	3. Whispering Mist (savant par)

Made for rarepair week 2k17.  
Day 1, Colors/ **Grey**  
Rarepair-of-choice: savant par  
 _Originally posted on tumblr._

* * *

Prompt: Danny's ghost sense evolves into a completely out-of-control fog that surrounds and suffocates his ghost fights. The fog has supernatural and horrifying characteristics.

* * *

In the event of a disaster, it is not safe to go outside.

Empty cars cluttered the sidewalks, some with the driver's doors still hanging open and keys dangling from ignitions. It was like a scene out of a b-rated zombie movie: the streets were freshly abandoned, a spilled cup of coffee was still warm on the concrete when Tucker stepped over it and crept around abandoned vehicles. The city's population had evaporated like water on a hot day, and the only thing left behind was the fog.

A thick, white haze that shrouded every block in mystery was his only companion as Tucker quickly made his way down Keaton Avenue. His footsteps had a strangely metallic echo to them, as if the blacktop he darted across might actually be hollow. The fog did that. Distorted sounds, made them echo from strange directions and with odd new twists. To any casual observer, the fog was a horrifying, living thing, full of disjointed voices and unseen faces.

Tucker ignored everything he heard. He marched bravely along the yellow line in the middle of the road, following it and the map highlighted on his phone. People judged him from behind 'safe' boutiques and eclectic local shop windows, their shadows moved in the corner of his eye. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention, and his teeth clench, but the watching eyes were normal.

He did, after all, look a whole lot like a crazy person lost in the whispering mist.

His phone vibrated, a message appeared. _Keaton and Maybury, hurry up._ A bubble of warmth passed over his left ear, a woman's voice told him a secret, and then faded away. He forgot what she said as soon as heat drained out of his face. Tucker blinked, shook his head, and broke into a jog. He carried his inhaler in his left hand and his phone in his right, his backpack threatened to throw his balance and Tucker minded the cracks in the pavement. More bubbles of warmth grazed by him, whispering; unseen hands caressed his knees.

According to GPS, Maybury Street was only a block away.

He decided to run.

His feet slapped the pavement and clanged with the force of beating drums. The street corner arrived in a haze of shadowy pillars that were either manmade or monsters. The area clamored with hundreds of half-heard conversations. His palms grew sweaty. Sick to his stomach, Tucker dropped to his knees and pulled off his backpack. From there, he began to pull out his equipment - a modified pedalboard amplifier, an ancient boombox, and a Fenton Thermos. He extended a mismatched antenna from the amplifier, connected the boombox with an aux cord, and set one of his proudest mixtapes in the tape deck.

He hit play. The cassette hummed with static before music flowed up and out of the speakers, charged with a little bit of extra Fenton protection. The fog started to fizzle with distant pop-crackles.

Tucker turned up the volume and increased the ecto-purifying frequency on the amplifier. The musical stylings of Childish Gambino and Chance the Rapper railed against the fog, thinning it out with a rhythmic beat.

 _All she needed was some,  
(All she needed was some,)  
All she needed was some…_

He crossed his legs and let the sound take its course, chasing away the fog to reveal the romanesque pillars of the Amity Park library and a bashed-in mailbox. In no time at all, Tucker sat in the center of a haze-free bubble that did not whisper. Tucker picked up the Fenton Thermos and removed the lid, then counted down from ten. At seven, the concrete trembled. At five, a very real howl found its way into the fogless street corner. At three the beast arrived, a black hound with piercing red eyes and two tails darted into the square. As it burst into the anti-fog zone, and mist faded off of its body, the creature came to a stop. It stood still with hackles raised, searching the obscure walls that surrounded them. Tucker clutched the thermos.

At zero seconds, a figure appeared across the street. The ghost moved with distinguishable arms and legs, but blurred beyond reasonable distinction of anything short of a shadowy limb-cloud. While entering the cleared air, his body shifted and refracted light in all directions, as unreal as the haze itself.

Tucker could still make out Danny's cocky grin underneath it all, though.

He got to his feet and aimed the Fenton Thermos.

The hound leapt at Phantom.

Tucker captured it.

"Gotchya." Danny's voice echoed and changed and came back with ringing-bell attached to it. He turned to Tucker, and his insubstantial edges began to harden down into a solid, opaque body. As Danny became more real, the fog followed, raising from the atmosphere and clearing through the streets. Tucker got to see his inhuman green eyes with perfect clarity before those eyes turned blue in a flash of sparkling light.

The cocky grin remained on Danny Fenton's face. " _Twelve_ ghosts in one hour, Tuck. That's gotta be a record, right?"

"You trapped people inside for an hour."

"Everybody has to check Facebook sometime." Danny rubbed his arm and eyed the Fenton amplifier, "Can you unplug that? This music shouldn't be giving me chills."

"Because it's fire?"

"Tucker Foley, D.J. Extraordinaire, of course it's fire."

"Hah. Sweet. Now, speaking of chills." Tucker unplugged the aux cord, and the boombox continued to play on its own without the added ectoenergy-repellant. "Your mist attack starts to get grabby a half hour in. I feel _very_ violated."

Danny rubbed his neck and made the face he usually makes when he's not going to say 'I don't know how to control that' out loud.

"It's fine." Tucker began replacing things in his backpack - he kept the boombox out to carry at his side while they picked their way through the street. People were starting to appear on the sidewalks, looking up and down the streets for traces of paranormal fog. They entered the crowd and began their way uptown.

"I just hope nobody else got caught in it. Did you hear about the shelters in the news? Three people almost went crazy." Danny flushed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I can't stop it from _spreading_ , that's the problem. Give it fifteen minutes and I've _drowned_ a five mile radius."

"I've been thinking about how to fix that." Tucker rubbed his ear, "But you're not going to like it."

"Oh?"

"Fenton amplifiers and music kill the fog, so… uh, I've been working on this," Tucker stopped on the sidewalk to slide his backpack off his shoulder and retrieve a case from the front pouch. He passed it to Danny. "It's…"

"Holy shit." Danny ran his hand over the imprinted logo on the case. "How much was this?"

"It's a gift. You're not supposed to ask that."

Danny unzipped the case. "Tucker."

Tucker flushed, "Yeah man, sorry. I modified them, so the warranty is bust."

Danny pulled a pair of very sleek noise cancelling headphones out of the case. They were round, silver, and lined with a very familiar green. "… you made something to help me turn it off?" Danny asked, reverent.

"I'm sorry, it's going to be a little uncomfortable, especially in your ghost form, but —"

Danny wrapped his arm around Tucker's shoulder, and pulled him close. "Thank you." He whispered. His breath was warm on Tucker's cheek. Tucker flushed.

He'd prefer _this_ to the whispering fog any day.

* * *

This is probably all I'll be able to write for the event, I'm spending all my creative energy on Beyond Beasts right now.


End file.
